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Isaac the Part-Time Lamp Post

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A stray kitten played precariously close to a street somewhere in between a dentistry related novelty shop and the opposite shady building that smelled of marigolds and alcohol. Spring was in the air, mostly because there was a burning spring factory in the immediate vicinity, and because it was the precise day that winter ended. On the edge of the shady building’s street was a row of lamp posts for the night traffic, which occasionally strobed in case police needed to redirect traffic by throwing massive raves for the bygoers in the middle of said street.

The kitten’s name was Whiskerwinks the Cat. This was his full title, and any other commendation unbefitting of his extensive feline military record was completely unacceptable. He was batting at a ball of yarn that was floating about the avenue, and it just happened to be alive. The yarn, as its various tubes of cotton or wool based flesh were being torn apart, was experiencing something akin to burning, scratching, and unbearable pain.

As Whiskerwinks the Cat gamboled around this boulevard of yarn and torment, one of the lamp posts directly adjacent to two neighboring lamp posts with the head of a man, the eyes of a lamp, and an umbrella hosting the upside down smile of a very deranged man spoke decisively to the playful creature.

“Please, Whiskerwinks the Cat! Do not gambol so frivolously through these halls of brick and build. Automobiles might strike you down with the power of internal combustion and the powers that be, which at this point in time stand firm as the cruel laws known to physics.”

Whiskerwinks the Cat did not contemplate this needlessly airy warning, or why the lamp post knew his name.

“Forgive me if I am mistaken,” Whiskerwinks the Cat replied with the voice of Princess Alexandrine Luise Amalie Friederike Elisabeth Sophie of Baden, a Duchess born in the year of 1820, “but I believe you have mistaken yourself in the guise of my mother.”

The lamp post gathered himself and spoke in a soothing and regular mannerism.

“I think it is time to cast off our respective facades and get down to business. Please, Whiskerwinks the Cat! I have respected your wishes and title. Do not risk losing your life in the street! Please play on the sidewalk.”

The lamp’s name was Isaac the Part-Time Lamp Post. This was also his full title, but he did not mind if you simply called him Isaac. In addition to aforementioned characteristics, he also had three stunted limbs that appeared to be used to hang coats and hats, only one was short and nubby, with the longest holding the umbrella with a handle in the shape of a hand. The pole that made up his body was bent thrice. His eyes were very large, and he had giant lopsided Xs instead of irises and pupils, which were always looking everywhere the opposite conversator wasn’t. His short hair was of white, with streaks of black, much like the negative image of a middle aged man’s graying hair. Such was the monstrous lamp that wore an unnatural smile that seemed to curve around the underside of his jaw and reach to his opposite ear. It was unlike a mouth, and more like a carved wooden slat, for it was the same elevation as his surrounding face, and did not move when he spoke. He wore a lamp’s cap that cast light in all directions adhering to circular dimensions. The air around his head seemed to spawn rapidly disappearing flowers.

Whiskerwinks the Cat observed the long winded description and shuddered slightly, for he had not initially laid eyes upon Isaac the Part-Time Lamp Post, being completely blind in both eyes.

“It seems I have stumbled upon quite the guardian light post.”

“Lamp post. Part-time.”

“There are no lamp posts. Not where I’ve been. War knows of no light other than that of barrel flash. Only the darkness under clouds of shrapnel and death have crossed my sight.”

“I suppose I have to detail what I do in my off time as a lamp post, then.”

“I have expressed no such desire for this knowledge.”

“I come in many forms. I have traveled the lands, doing my duty as guardian of this world and its people. I often help the elderly walk across the street in my off time, and I also guard boxes of small animals. I am known by my occupations that make up my very being: as ‘philanthropist’, ‘mother’, friend’, ‘the sun’, –”

“Did you just say you were the sun?”

“That is precisely what I did not say I was.”

“I see.”

Isaac would have remarked upon the irony of a blind cat saying such a thing, but he was much too polite and under the influence of marigold fumes that emanated from the nearby building that emitted only the scent of alcohol and the fumes of marigolds.

It was just then that Whiskerwinks the Cat noticed what was under the hideous umbrella: a box labeled, “PLEASE GIVE ME A GOOD HOME”.

“Ah, yes. This is my Box of Small Animals. I guard them with my Precipitant Shield of Terror and Nightmares, which devours whole all rain and trespass that near it. I am the new master of this umbrella, as Franz Griswold de Hommes Magnifique once had been. This umbrella that comes from the dimensions beyond the twenty veils of misfortune will only let one of pure heart approach the box and claim its contents.”

“How often does that happen?”

“It has not happened yet.”

“May I approach the box?”

“You may try.”

Whiskerwinks the Cat cautiously neared the box, above which the looming hand handle and twisted grin loom. The mouth prescribed in the folds of the Precipitant Shield– nay, the Precipitant Shield itself, opened its maw and let forth tendrils of drool that rapidly evaporated before touching any surfaces. The space and time around the box seemed to emanate darkness and frost in criss-crossing circular lines, but Whiskerwinks the Cat pressed on, and touched paw to the box. An unbelievably bitter and cold sensation shot through Whiskerwinks the Cat’s heart, tossing to and fro emotions in tumults previously believed to not exist to mortal hearts, and certainly not in such quantity.

But Whiskerwinks the Cat was actually just a kitten, and therefore not even tall enough to reach over the side of a box that was designed to hold those of his kin.

“This is a very futile quest, Whiskerwinks the Cat.”

“But I must! I must keep trying! If I don’t, then life isn’t worth living!”

“There is another way.”

“No! Nothing can heal these wounds!”

“Why do you fight, Whiskerwinks?”

“NOOOOO!”

Whiskerwinks the Cat fell from the box, collapsed. The foul mouth of Isaac’s umbrella surrendered its sinister aura. An unrelated cockatoo shed a single tear in a tobacco shop occupying northern Finland, as if it sensed something wrong. A rose spawned from the air around Isaac’s head amongst the regular tulips and pink begonias. It did not disappear, however, eventually landing on Whiskerwinks the Cat’s head. The rose glowed and dissolved into luminescent powder, finding its home in Whiskerwinks the Cat’s very soul. Whiskerwinks the Cat awoke with a start.

“What sorcery is this?”

“There was no sorcery. I merely brought you back to life with wizards.”

“Who am I!?”

“There is no time for that, Whiskerwinks the Cat. I must take us on a journey through time to teach you the meaning of love. Then perhaps you will think twice about playing in the street.”

Whiskerwinks the Cat did not even remember who he was or why he was here, but he would later regain the painful lesson that war had previously scarred him with in the forms of hallucinogenic flashbacks on the way to drop off his daughter to soccer practice.

Time and space flew past the two occupants of Alcohol Scented Marigold Fume Street, eventually righting itself in the exact same position it was before, except they were in the past.

“Behold, Whiskerwinks.”

It was 1970. The filter was of much grain and high color saturation. There was a woman dressed in reflective clothing with an afro dancing to bangin’ disco beats with a voice full of soul somewhere in the world; perhaps more than one. It was truly the cat’s pajamas. Whiskerwinks the Cat’s pajamas. Whiskerwinks the Cat was suddenly wearing his pajamas. As it stood, Isaac the Part-Time Lamp Post was currently the hippest cat to jive the globe for his funktastic moves that danced back time.

[Past] Isaac the Part-Time Lamp Post was currently ushering an elderly woman across the street. His ghastly umbrella had morphed into an upside down tulip shaped hat with enticingly plump red lips and perfect teeth. The hand handle was handling a STOP sign, and Isaac was holding a light stick usually meant for guiding landing planes. Isaac’s base was replaced with a four legged pedestal that moved like a man, and he wore a reflective jacket. It was unsure whether Isaac was wearing the jacket, or the pedestal.

[Present] Isaac the Part-Time Lamp Post observed solemnly as if they were witnessing a very profound moment. Whiskerwinks the Cat was beginning to recall the events leading up to this moment, as well as the horrors of the afterlife and death. He foamed slightly at the mouth, for the memories were causing minor epileptic seizures.

The elderly woman was a very small creature. She walked with a hunched back, and an innocent smile. Her slippers shuffled across the asphalt and her plain white nightgown kicked in motion with her legs. Seeing the hypnotic wavy silk in the woman’s dress suddenly awoke Whiskerwinks the Cat to the reason for why he should not play in the street, his eyes widening to surprised proportions. He looked up to Isaac as if to ask if he was serious about what was happening.

As Isaac and the woman got to the end of the crosswalk, it became obvious that the elderly woman’s path would not merge with the sidewalk once again. The hand handling the STOP sign’s handle was whispering jumbled terrors into her ears, casting a steady hissing spell into her mind and soul. Isaac walked closer and closer to his original spot. The Box of Small Animals lay on its side against the wall, which did not smell of marigolds and alcohol. In this period, it smelled strongly of chintzy furniture and disco balls. (This was the most important piece of information Whiskerwinks the Cat had so far absorbed on his journey.)

The Box’s open mouth held a whirling black vortex that emitted strange whispering voices playing in reverse, and the tumultuous roar of the expanses of all space and time. The elderly woman walked directly into the box, black star specked tendrils wrapping themselves around her, pulling her in, and the cardboard container righted itself immediately; time corrected itself with it, and thus Isaac was once again rooted in his original position. Whiskerwinks eyed the Box of Small Animals, feeling a lurching and disturbing feeling that shook him and broke him in divisions of his psychology never before visited, as he recalled the ominous demon maw of the cardboard box. Isaac continued to smile his carved smile, looking nowhere in particular. A silence overtook them for several minutes before Whiskerwinks the Cat walked away without another word.

Whiskerwinks the Cat never played in the street again.

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Posted

Skipped everything to comment: Why did it take you this long to write anything for Isaac the part time lamp post?

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Posted

cuz lol

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Posted

Isaac would have remarked upon the irony of a blind cat saying such a thing, but he was much too polite and under the influence of marigold fumes that emanated from the nearby building that emitted only the scent of alcohol and the fumes of marigolds.

this lol

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Posted

COMPLETELY IDIOTIC

SENSELESS DRIVEL

but that's probably what you were going for so +1

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